


You Had a Bad Day, Take a Step Down (DOMINICK "SONNY" CARISI JR.)

by RockWithItWriting



Category: Law & Order: SVU, Law & Order: Special Victims Unit RPF
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 16:08:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7539169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockWithItWriting/pseuds/RockWithItWriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>requested by anonymous: Imagine being a plus-sized SVU detective and Sonny’s secret girlfriend. After having a suspect call you a “fat whore that spreads her legs for anyone who gives her the time of day”, you just have a small cry at your desk and carry on. The comment sticks with you, all the way until you show up to sleep at Sonny’s place. He decides to show you just how beautiful you are by making love to you.</p><p>word count: 1542</p><p>warnings: fatphobia, insults, cursing, violence, nsfw themes, female reader</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Had a Bad Day, Take a Step Down (DOMINICK "SONNY" CARISI JR.)

Sonny Carisi was sick. And not the normal sick. Of course not. He was the incoherent sick, nearly blind sick, coughing up a lung sick.

And you were his girlfriend, stuck at work, stuck interrogating when you should have been home with your whining partner and boyfriend. Though you couldn’t call off at the same time as him because you hadn’t really divulged your relationship and guilt gnawed at your stomach but you couldn’t let it show.

You couldn’t let anything but confidence show, sitting in front of a walking pile of shit who had raped four boys in his boy scout troupe. He was grinning because he knew that you didn’t have enough to put him away for all four, barely enough for one.

“Look, Tony,” You sneered, pretending like he wasn’t worth your time. “I get it, I do. You like little boys. Why is that, though?”

You cocked your head as his eyes narrowed and you let your eyes flicker from his face to Mike’s. Your sergeant was watching you interrogate so he could get a better feel for how it went down in SVU. Under his watchful eye, you pulled out all stops, “Is it because they’re small, easy to control?” But you shook your head, a small grin curling on your lips, “Or is it because you’re small?” His jaw jumped and you knew you had him, “Right, Sergeant? That has to be it! You’re small and so are they, so when they first see you, right before you rape them, you feel big.” Tony’s face flushed red in a millisecond as he stood and grabbed his chair, cocking it back and lobbing it at you before Mike could react.

You deflected it, but the hard metal would leave bruises on your arms for weeks, probably. As the rest of your team rushed in, Tony started screaming.

“You can go to hell, you fat whore! You’ve probably fucked every damn cop here! You open your legs for anyone!” But with one swift left hook, Fin had shut his mouth. Amanda rushed you from the room, asking if you were okay but you were dazed.

Dazed with the pain shooting up your arms and dazed with what Tony had said. You shook Amanda off and fell into your chair, trying to at least pretend like you weren’t having a mental breakdown with some paperwork.

But you were second guessing everything about yourself. Sure, you were bigger than the average woman, but you were healthy. That’s all that mattered, right? You were athletic even though you were bigger. You could chase down perps, swim when you needed to, nothing about your weight affected your performance.

So why was his comment getting to you? He was a lowlife, a rapist, a sack of shit with legs. And you were a successful detective with a wonderful boyfriend and you loved yourself, your body, your mind, your quick wit so why were tears springing to your eyes, why was your breathing becoming ragged? Why were you bent over your paperwork so Amanda didn’t see you cry?

High school, that’s why. Four years of actually believing that shit, four years of having to listen to it from the people at school and yourself.

Four years of learned behavior that was still affecting you, years later.

You scoffed and straightened your back, quickly running your fingers under your eyes to rid the damning evidence of a weak moment that would last for at least two months. Amanda must have seen you because she leaned over, placing a warm hand on your shoulder. “Go home, get some rest. We’ll deal with Tony.”

You wanted to say no, but the thought of crawling into bed with Sonny, sick as he may have been, was too tempting. You nodded and thanked her, popping in to tell Oliva that you were going home. The cab ride was the worst, the elevator wasn’t too bad but the silent apartment nearly killed you. Sonny had to’ve been asleep otherwise the television would have been on some football game or something, like normal.

You sighed and entered the bedroom, finally smiling when you saw the smooth expanse of Sonny’s back in the light from the crack of the door. He was sleeping, or ignoring you, but you didn’t care. You wanted to crawl in bed with him, to feel his warmth and hear his breathing.

Even if it was a hacking cough.

Even if there was a chance you would get sick.

But after you shed your clothes, picked up one of his shirts and slung it over your body, Sonny turned over and smiled at you. “You’re home early,” The sound of his voice, low and rough from sleep, was enough to make you shiver.

“Amanda’s covering for me.”

His eyes must have been trailing over your body as you stood in front of him because suddenly he was on his knees, kneeling on the bed and pulling you closer, “Doll, what happened?” He took your arms in his hands and observed the dark bruises that were starting to form. They were blue and green and you removed your arms from Sonny’s grip.

“We caught the guy raping those boy scouts. He threw a chair at me after I insinuated he was less than hung.” Sonny grinned and pulled you onto the bed quickly, seeming a lot better than when you had left him that morning.

“That’s my girl! You sure know how to rile a man up.” He laid next to you, arms around you, and kissed you. “Is that why you got sent home?” And, once again, you wanted to lie but you couldn’t bring yourself to.

“Naw,” You said, trying to be flippant, “The guy he, well, he said some things that shouldn’t have gotten to me, but they did.” You tried to erase what the man had said by looking into Sonny’s eyes and it worked, until he asked you what the man had said, “He called me a fat whore. It’s nothing knew, but it was after he threw a chair at me. A chair, Sonny.” You tried to lighten to conversation with a joke, but Sonny’s face was pulled tight in a frown.

“Do you believe him?” He asked, voice low. You gaped at him, “Do you believe what he said?” You could only shrug.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not exactly thin.” His hand slipped from where it was around your waist to trace over your hip, palm pressing flat and warm against your thigh. There were stretch marks there, but you learned to love them. Especially when Sonny’s fingertips made them feel like lightening, tracing them with a feather light touch.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, you’re not exactly ugly.” He said, “You know that being bigger than other broads doesn’t make you ugly, right? And you’re not a whore.” You smiled when his hand constricted on your thigh, voice hard when he spat out the last word.

You nodded and tilted your head to give Sonny a long, slow kiss. “I know, Sonny. And I know you love me and I know that I’m not a whore and I know my arms hurt like a bitch. I know.” He smiled and pulled your leg closer, hooking it over his waist. His hand rounded to your behind, hand grasping there as he smirked.

“I’m glad you know.” He was smirking, “And you know how bad this is going to look if you get sick as I’m getting better.” You followed the path of Sonny’s body down his bare chest until you hooked a finger in his basketball shorts, flicking the elastic.

“Maybe that will be our disclosure. The goon from Staten Island and the fat whore.” It was meant to be a joke, but Sonny’s eyes darkened again and he brought you closer to him, his breath rolling over your face as he gripped your behind with both hands and leaned forward until his lips were barely touching yours.

“Do I need to show you that you’re not just some fat whore? Huh? Because I will. You know how I feel about you. I don’t understand why you would think of yourself this way.” His passion took your breath away and you kissed him, giving him his answer.

Sonny kissed back with a fever so hot you thought it might burn, but that was just Sonny. He liked to make sure that you knew you were loved, that you knew that you were his world. That night was no different.

He used his rather obscene upper body strength to roll you onto your back, pinning you down in the same move. It didn’t matter that his hands were still on your ass, but you couldn’t move even if you wanted to.

Maybe it was his strength, his shoulders pressed to yours as he sucked a deep hickey into your neck, or maybe it was his hips rolling into yours but you didn’t want to be anywhere else. You wanted to be in his arms, with him, every day.

Finally, Sonny sat up and gripped the sides of your bare thighs, instead, “Haven’t you ever heard the phrase _thick thighs save lives_?”


End file.
